"It could well just be nervousness," Ari agreed, hoping that it was a mere side-effect of Zelda tossing and turning about owning up to this than the penalty it might be. So: some cramping, tiredness, no nausea (yet). That was fairly inconclusive, and if she was pregnant it was admittedly still early days; but from all he knew of pregnancy, women seemed almost able to sense it - or at least could tell when they did not feel entirely like themselves.

(Concern was doing an exceptional job of wreaking havoc on him right now, too, Ari considered, feeling his stomach twisted in knots.)

"It might be a bit early for sickness," he murmured. But she would know when it hit her, undoubtedly. "And it might be a bit early to tell at all for sure," Ari confessed, hating that he had to be saying any of this, "but, any pain or discomfort, anything that feels unusual to you - if it persists - could be your body trying to tell you." Starting to change. Beckoning forth calamity. However you wanted to phrase it.

"Ordinarily," Ari began, after a fraught pause, trying to look at her in reassurance and finding it near impossible, "I suppose I'd say be patient -" see if your monthlies come, or the nausea hits... However. Zelda was not a married woman, she was a nineteen year old girl with a job and no formal attachments and a father who would be thunderous about this, so patience would only push the potential problem a short distance down the road: preparedness was a better bet. "But we should work out what we're going to do, just - in case. If you... are."

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